1、【导读】你喜欢画画吗？你了解会画画的人吗？阅读短篇小说画册的一页，让你认识会画画的伊恩费伦奇。【节选】Feuille dalbumHe really was an impossible person.Too shy，and he had nothing at all to say.When he came to your studio，he just sat there，silent.When he finally went，blushing red all over his face，you wanted to scream and throw something at him.The st
2、range thing was that at first sight he looked most interesting.Everybody agreed about that.You saw him in a caf one evening，sitting in a corner with a glass of coffee in front of him.He was a thin boy，who always wore a blue shirt and a grey jacket that was a little too small for him.He looked just l
3、ike a boy who has decided to run away to sea.You expected him to get up at any moment，and walk out into the night and be drowned.画册的一页他真是个令人难以忍受的人。那么怕羞。跟人压根儿就无话可说。他进了你的工作室，就一声不吭地坐在那儿。当他满脸通红终于要走的时候，你真想冲他大叫，把什么东西朝他扔过去。奇怪的是，他给人第一眼的印象却显得非常有趣。对于这一点大家都有同感。某个晚上你会在咖啡馆里看到他，面前放了杯咖啡，在角落里坐着。他是个瘦瘦的小伙子，总是穿一件蓝衬衣和一
4、件有些太小的灰色夹克。他看上去就像个决定要逃亡海上的男孩儿。你觉得他随时都会起身，走进夜色，淹没在海里。He had short black hair，grey eyes，white skin and a mouth that always looked ready for tears.Oh，just to see him did something to your heart！And he had this habit of blushing.If a waiter spoke to him，he turned red!“Who is he，my dear? Do you know？”“Ye
5、s.His name is Ian French.He paints.They say hes very clever.Someone I know tried to mother him.She asked him how often he had a letter from home，if he had enough blankets on his bed，how much milk he drank.Then she went to his studio to make sure he had enough clean shirts.She rang and rang the bell，
6、but nobody came to the door，although she was sure he was there.Hopeless！”Someone else decided he ought to fall in love.She called him to her，took his hand，and told him how wonderful life can be for those who are brave.But when she went to his studio one evening，she rang and rang.Hopeless.“What the p
7、oor boy really needs is excitement，”a third woman said.She took him to cafs and nightclubs，dark places where the drinks cost too much and there were always stories of a shooting the night before.Once he got very drunk，but still he said nothing，and when she took him home to his studio，he just said“go
8、odnight”and left her outside in the street.Hopeless.Other women tried to help himwomen can be very kindbut finally they，too，were defeated.We are all busy people，and why should we spend our valuable time on someone who refuses to be helped?“And anyway，I think there is something rather odd about him，d
9、ont you agree？He cant be as innocent as he looks.Why come to Paris if you dont intend to have any fun？”He lived at the top of a tall，ugly building，near the river.As it was so high，the studio had a wonderful view.From the two big windows he could see boats on the river and an island covered with tree
10、s.From the side window he looked across to a smaller and uglier house，and down below there was a flower market.You could see the tops of huge umbrellas with bright flowers around them，and plants in boxes.Old women moved backwards and forwards among the flowers.Really，he didnt need to go out.There wa
11、s always something to draw.If any kind woman had been able to get into his studio，she would have had a surprise. He kept it as neat as a pin.Everything was arranged in its place，exactly like a paintingthe bowl of eggs，the cups and the teapot on the shelf，the books and the lamp on the table.There was
12、 a red Indian cover on his bed，and on the wall by the bed there was a small，neatly written notice：GET UP AT ONCE.Every day was the same. When the light was good he painted，then cooked a meal and tidied the studio.In the evenings he went to the caf or sat at home reading or writing a list which began
13、：“What I can afford to spend”The list ended“I promise not to spend more this month. Signed，Ian French”Nothing odd about that；but the women were right. There was something else.One evening he was sitting at the side window eating an apple and looking down on to the tops of the huge umbrellas in the e
14、mpty flower market.It had been raining，the first spring rain of the year，and the air smelled of plants and wet earth.Down below in the market，the trees were covered in new green.“What kind of trees are they？”he wondered.He stared down at the small ugly house，and suddenly two windows opened like wing
15、s and a girl came out on to the balcony，carrying a pot of daffodils.She was a strangely thin girl in a dark dress，with a pink handkerchief tied over her hair.“Yes，it is warm enough.It will do them good，”she said，putting down the pot，and turning to someone in the room inside.As she turned，she put her
16、 hands up to her hair to tidy it，and looked down at the market and up at the sky.She did not look at the house opposite. Then she disappeared.His heart fell out of the window and down to the balcony，where it buried itself among the green leaves of the daffodils.The room with the balcony was the sitt
17、ingroom，and next to it was the kitchen. He heard her washing the dishes after supper，saw her come to the window to shake out the tablecloth.She never sang or combed her hair or stared at the moon as young girls are said to do. She always wore the same dark dress and pink handkerchief.Who did she liv
18、e with？Nobody else came to the window，but she was always talking to someone.Her mother，he decided，was always ill. They took in sewing work.The father was dead.He had been a journalist.By working all day she and her mother just made enough money to live on，but they never went out and they had no frie
19、nds.He had to make some new notices.“Not to go to the window before six oclock：signed，Ian French.Not to think about her until he had finished his painting for the day：signed，Ian French.”It was quite simple.She was the only person he wanted to know because she was，he decided，the only person alive who
20、 was exactly his age.He didnt want silly girls，and he had no use for older women.She was his age.She waswell，just like him.He sat in his studio，staring at her windows，seeing himself in those rooms with her.She was often angry.They had terrible fights，he and she.And she rarely laughed.Only sometimes，
21、when she told him about a funny little cat she once had，who used to scratch and pretend to be fierce when she gave it meat to eat.Things like that made her laugh.Usually，they sat together very quietly，talking in low voices，or silent and tired after the days work.Of course，she never asked him about h
22、is pictures，and of course he painted the most wonderful pictures of her，which she hated because he made her so thin and so dark.But how could he meet her?Then he discovered that once a week，in the evening，she went shopping.On two Thursdays he saw her at the window in a coat，carrying a basket.The nex
23、t Thursday，at the same time，he ran down the stairs.There was a lovely pink light over everything.He saw it reflected in the river，and the people walking towards him in the street had pink faces and pink hands.Outside the house he waited for her.He had no idea what he was going to do or say.“Here she
24、 comes，”said a voice in his head.She walked very quickly，with small，light steps.What could he do？He could only follow.First she went to buy some bread.Then she went to a fish shop.She had to wait a long time in there.Then she went to the fruit shop and bought an orange.As he watched her，he knew more
25、 surely than ever that he must talk to her，now.Her seriousness and her loneliness，even the way she walkedseparate，somehow，distant from the other people in the streetall this was so natural，so right to him.“Yes，she is always like that，”he thought proudly.“She and I are different from these people.”Bu
26、t now she was going home，and he had not spoken to her.Then she went into another shop. Through the window，he saw her buying an egg. She took it carefully out of the basketa brown egg，a beautiful one，the one he himself would have chosen.She came out of the shop，and he went in.A moment later he was ou
27、t again，following her through the flower market，past the huge umbrellas，walking on fallen flowers.He followed her into the house and up the stairs.She stopped at a door and took a key out of her purse.As she put the key in the lock，he ran up to her.Blushing redder than ever，but looking straight at h
28、er，he said，almost angrily：“Excuse me，Mademoiselle，you dropped this.”And he gave her an egg.他留着一头短短的黑发，长着灰色的眼睛，白皙的皮肤，还有那看起来总像要哭的嘴巴。噢，只要看见他你就会心动！他还有爱脸红的习惯。即使是侍者跟他说话，他也会脸红！“他是谁，亲爱的？你认识吗？”“认识。他叫伊恩弗伦奇，画画的，听说很聪明。有个我认识的人试图像母亲一样地照顾他。她问他多长时间能收到一封家信，床上的毯子够不够用，以及喝多少牛奶。后来她去他的画室想看看他的干净衬衫够不够穿。她一遍又一遍地按门铃，但是没人应门，尽管
29、她确信他就在里面无可救药！”另一个女人认为他应该去恋爱。她把他叫到身边，拉着他的手，告诉他对于那些勇敢者来说，生活会有多么美好。但是，当她有一天晚上去他的画室时，她一遍又一遍地按门铃无可救药。“这个可怜的小伙子真正需要的是刺激。”第三个女人说。她把他带到咖啡馆和夜总会，都是些昏暗的地方，在那里饮料卖得特别贵，并且总能听到头天夜里发生的枪击案。有一次他喝得酩酊大醉，可还是一言不发。她送他回画室时，他只说了句“晚安”就完事了，把她一人留在了外面的大街上无可救药。还有些女人试图帮他女人们有时非常仁慈可她们最终也都失败了。我们都很忙，为什么要把我们宝贵的时间花到拒绝接受帮助的人身上呢？“不管怎么说，我
30、还是认为他这人挺古怪的，你们说呢？他不可能像表面看上去的那样天真无邪。如果不想找乐子的话，为什么要来巴黎呢？”他住在河边一幢难看的高楼顶层。因为楼很高，他从画室可以看到美丽的风景。从那两扇大窗户往外望，可以看到河上的船只，还有一座长满树木的小岛。从侧面窗户往外望，可以看到更小更难看的房子，再往下看有一个花市。你能看到很多大伞的顶部，伞的四周摆着艳丽的鲜花和盆栽植物。老妇人们在花丛中走来走去。他真的没有必要出去，因为在这里总能找到画画的素材。任何一个好心的女人要是能进入他的画室的话，肯定会吃惊的。他把房间收拾得干干净净，一切都布置得井井有条，就像是一幅画一样盛着鸡蛋的碗，放在架子上的杯子和茶壶，
31、摆在桌上的书和灯。床上盖着一条红色的印度床罩，床边的墙上贴着一小张书写工整的便条：马上起床。每天的日子都过得一模一样。光线充足的时候他画画，然后做饭，收拾画室。晚上他去咖啡馆，或者坐在家里读书，或者写份清单，开头是“我能够支付的钱数”。结束语是“我保证这个月的开销绝不超过上个月。伊恩弗伦奇(签名)。”这倒没有什么古怪的；但女人们是对的。他有其他的怪异之处。有一天晚上，他坐在侧面窗户旁吃苹果，望着下面空无一人的花市里那些大伞的顶部。外面一直在下雨，这是这一年中的第一场春雨。空气中弥漫着草木的芳香和湿润的泥土气息。楼下市场里的树木涂上了一层新绿。“这是些什么树呢？”他心里琢磨着。他凝视着下面一所又
32、小又难看的房子，突然两扇窗户像翅膀一样地打开了，一个女孩儿来到了阳台上，手里还捧着一盆水仙花。这是个瘦得出奇的女孩儿，穿一件深色衣服，头发上扎着条粉红色的手帕。“是的，天气够暖和了，对这些花有好处。”她边说边把花盆放下，转身朝向屋里的什么人。再转过来时，她抬手整理了一下头发，低头望望市场，又抬头看看天空。她没有朝对面的房子张望，接着就消失了。他的心飞出了窗外，直落到那个阳台上，掩埋在水仙花绿色的叶丛中。那个带阳台的房间是起居室，隔壁是厨房。他听见晚饭后她洗刷碗碟的声音，看见她走到窗边抖桌布的身影。她从不像别的年轻女孩子那样唱歌、梳头，或是凝视月亮。她总穿着那件深色衣服，系着那条粉红色的手帕。她
33、跟谁住在一起呢？没有别的人走到窗边，可她总是在跟屋里的什么人讲话。他猜想她母亲老是在生病，她们揽些缝缝补补的活计来生活，她父亲已经死了他以前曾是个新闻记者。她们母女俩工作一整天挣的钱只够维持温饱，可是她们从不出门，也没有朋友。他得写一些新的便条“6点钟之前不准到窗边：伊恩弗伦奇(签名)；没有完成当天的绘画之前不许想她：伊恩弗伦奇(签名)。”事情很简单。她是他唯一想结识的人，因为他觉得她是世间所有活着的人中仅有的一个和他年龄相同的人。他不喜欢傻傻的姑娘，也不需要年纪大些的女人。她跟他一样大。她嗯，和他很像。他坐在画室里，凝视着她的窗口，仿佛看到自己就在那些房间里，和她在一起。她老爱生气。他们吵得
34、很凶，他和她。她很少笑，只有偶尔讲起自己以前养的一只滑稽小猫的时候，她才会笑。她每次喂这只猫吃肉的时候，它总是摩拳擦掌，装作很凶猛的样子只有这样的事才会使她发笑。他们通常总是非常安静地坐在一起，要么低声交谈，要么默默无语，因为劳作了一天，已感觉很疲乏了。她当然从来不会过问他画的那些画，他当然也为她画了最漂亮的画像，可她却讨厌这些画，因为他把她画得那么瘦、那么黑可是他怎样才能结识她呢？后来他发现，她每周要出去买一次东西，而且是在晚上。有两个星期四他都在窗口看到她穿着件外衣，提着一只篮子。到了又一个星期四的同一时刻，他跑下楼去。周围的一切都笼罩在一片可爱的粉红色亮光里。他看见河水泛着粉红色的光，大
35、街上朝他走来的行人的脸和手也被映成了粉红色。他在房子外面等她。他不知道要做什么，也不知道要说什么。“她来了，”他脑海中有个声音说道。她走得很快，步子又小又轻他能做什么呢？他只能跟着她先去买了点儿面包，然后又去了鱼店。她在那里等了很长时间。接着她又去了水果店，买了个橘子。他在观察她的时候，比以往任何时候都清楚自己一定得跟她说话，现在就去。她的严肃、孤独，甚至是她走路的样子不知道是为什么，这使她与街上的其他人隔离开来可是所有这一切对他来说却是那么自然，那么恰到好处。“是的，其实她一直都是这样，”他自豪地想，“我和她跟这些人是不一样的。”可现在她要回家了，他还没能跟她说上话。接着她又进了另一家商店。
36、透过窗户，他看见她买了一只鸡蛋。她小心翼翼地把鸡蛋从篮子中取出来蛋是棕色的，样子很美，换了他也会挑这只蛋的。她从这家商店出来，而他走了进去。过了一会儿他又出来了，跟着她穿过花市，经过那些大伞，踩着掉在地上的花。他跟着她进了房子，上了楼梯。她在一扇门前停下，从钱夹里掏出钥匙。当她把钥匙插进门锁的时候，他跑了上去。他的脸从来没有这么红过，可他却直视着她，几乎是有点儿愤怒地说：“对不起，小姐，您掉了这个。”他递给她一只鸡蛋。知识积累1studio n画室2at first sight 一见之下，立即3as neat as a pin 非常整洁的4reflect v. (物体表面)反射(光、热、声)文化链接画册的一页是英国女作家Katherine Mansfield的短篇小说。该篇小说写的是一个贫穷的年轻画家，过着独善其身的生活，却因他的少年孤独有着独特的吸引力。小说中打动人的地方在于描述了一种属于少年人的严肃而又纯净的世界。
